Going Forth
by Huinesoron
Summary: At the beginning of the Third Age, the Valar sent five emissaries to Middle Earth. This is the story of their choosing.


Alright. This is a reworking of the section in Unfinished Tales dealing with the choosing of the five wizards. The original is a simple outline, partially illegible, but enough exists to make this reworking possible. I hope you enjoy it!  
  
Going Forth  
  
A gathering was called in Valinor, at the peak of the great watchtower of Taniquetil. All the Valar, and many of the lesser Ainur, the Maia, travelled across the land to come there at the bidding of Manwë, the Lord of the Winds.  
  
Eventually, they were all gathered, clad in the forms of Eldar or Secondborn. These forms they took when all were gathered, to be visible and distinct. For although they were often seen in such forms, they could at will abandon these bodies and wander the land unseen.  
  
Manwë spoke to the assembled, in a voice that moved the air. "A new shadow has risen in Arda. A servant of the rogue among our brethren, Morgoth. His lieutenant, who we thought defeated, and who my herald invited to return here for judgement, has set himself up as a new Dark Lord.  
  
"Although he has no discernable designs on our realm of Aman, I have concluded," and the assembled masses saw his slight smile, "that we need to send emissaries, in number three, to counter this Sauron. Does this seem a suitable course of action?"  
  
Those below murmured their agreement, and Olórin, standing at the back, considered the smile that the High King of the Valar had shown. Did this mean that he had consulted the Great One, Eru the Creator? Perhaps they would never know, for his Master kept close council about his movements. Olórin did know, however, that Manwë had spent much time at the peak of his tower recently, rather than in his accustomed chambers.  
  
"Who would go?" asked Manwë, jolting Olórin's mind back to the present. "For they must be mighty, peers of Sauron, but must forgo might, and clothe themselves in flesh so as to treat on equality and win the trust of Elves and Men. But this would imperil them, dimming their wisdom and knowledge, and confusing them with fears, cares and weariness coming from the flesh."  
  
For a moment none moved. Then Aulë, the smith, nudged Curumo to the centre of the circle. Opposite him, Oromë, not to be outdone, pushed forward one of the Maia who served him, who was named Alatar.  
  
No further movement occurred. Ulmo attempted to send one of his servants, but the Maiar would not go. Eventually, Manwë sighed. "Where is Olórin?" he enquired.  
  
The grey-robed traveller took a moment to register that he was addressed, until Aiwendil, who sat beside him, nudged the Maiar. Then, sighing, Olórin rose and moved to the centre of the ring. "What would you have of me, my Lord?"  
  
"I wish you to go as the third messenger to Middle-Earth," replied the Lord of the Winds, "for you are a lover of the Eldar that remain, and could do great good there."  
  
Olórin was shocked. He had not expected this, to be exiled from his homeland. Desperately, he tried to make excuses, claiming that he was too weak for such a task, that he feared Sauron. But Manwë would have none of it.  
  
"That is all the more reason for you to go," declared the Vala. "For strength often comes from weakness, and in his arrogance Sauron may believe one seemingly weak to be no threat."  
  
Olórin prepared to speak again, but was given no opportunity. Manwë's tone switched to one of command. "Olórin, servant of myself and of my spouse, Varda, you shall go forth to Middle-Earth as the third emissary of Our council against the Dark Lord Sauron."  
  
At this, Olórin knew he was defeated, and nodded in resignation. But Varda, the Lady of the Stars, looked up, her eyes shining with the Light of the Two Trees. And she spoke, softly, in a voice like a soft breeze.  
  
"Not as the third," she said, and Olórin wondered what she meant. Then he glanced over at Curumo, saw the barely concealed rage on the other's face, and realised the truth. Varda, one of the leaders of the Valar, had just named him the most powerful of the emissaries, a role that Curumo had obviously coveted for himself.  
  
Once more spoke Manwë, in a voice like that he had used in the Judgement of Melkor, so long ago. "You three shall go forth to Middle-Earth, the land that once housed Us, and there do all in your power to prevent Sauron from conquering, and destroying the Children of Ilúvatar who live there. But you are forbidden to match him in a show of strength, for in doing so you might destroy Endor, and bring about Dagor Dagorath far sooner than Eru intended. Instead you must work through agents, and through subtlety. Do you understand?"  
  
"We do," chorused the three.  
  
"Then return now to your dwellings," he said, "and prepare yourselves. For the ship shall depart in five days time, and all must be present in Tirion at that time."  
  
With that, the Lord of the Winds departed the chamber, his Lady following behind. Olórin, as was his custom, stayed and observed. He noted that Yavanna spoke closely to Curumo, in a tone that seemed like pleading. Curious, he sought out Aiwendil, who served the Queen of the Earth, and inquired what was passing between the two.  
  
"My Lady wishes for me to accompany the emissaries," he replied, "and begs the servant of her spouse to take me with him."  
  
Olórin looked over at the Valië, who stood before Curumo. She had never seemed the pleading type, being one of the eight more powerful Valar. Yet she pleaded. Something was not right, but what, Olórin did not know.  
  
But he could discover nothing, for Aiwendil did not know the reason, and it was not Olórin's way to question the actions of a Valië. So he left, and returned five days hence, still grey-clad.  
  
The three original messengers gathered in Tirion, accompanied by two others. The brown-cloaked Aiwendil accompanied Curumo, who was now robed in shimmering white. This much Olórin had expected. What he had *not* anticipated was that Alatar was accompanied by another. Both of them were robed in sky blue, and as Olórin approached Alatar said, "Welcome, Olórin. I see you made it in time to join our little party. Allow me to introduce Pallando, another of Oromë's people, and my friend. He has agreed to accompany us on our voyage."  
  
Olórin considered this. From it, he gleaned two facts that might not be immediately obvious - Alatar was far too cheerful, and Oromë was still trying to outdo Aulë. Considering the rivalry between the two, Olórin was glad the emissaries were leaving now. If not, there could have been hundreds of these voyagers, these . . . what was Manwë's term for them? Ah, yes . . . Istari, Wise Ones. Rather a fanciful term, but in the lands of Middle Earth it would be true enough.  
  
But now the time had come. Eönwë stood on the plaza and pointed towards the sea, where the Teleri had prepared a grey ship for the voyage into the Lands of Exile. For a moment, none moved. Then, with a glance at the others, Curumo set off, walking down the hill, his white robe flowing behind him.  
  
The others followed. Olórin stayed a moment and glanced at Eönwë. The Herald of Manwë nodded, and Olórin, who would later take the name Gandalf, walked down after his fellows without looking back.  
  
* * * *  
  
Yes, it was random. No, I'm not doing any more. The rest, as they say, is history.  
  
hS 


End file.
